


The Birth of the Spawn of Satan

by anonymousmadame2911



Series: The Satanic Cult [6]
Category: Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom
Genre: Black Reader, Dubious Consent, F/M, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Pregnant Sex, Smut, Spawn of Satan, Woman of Color Reader - Freeform, monster cock, satanic themes, sex in a public place, sex with satan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 15:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousmadame2911/pseuds/anonymousmadame2911





	The Birth of the Spawn of Satan

What they warn you about in Catholic school—the one you went to for 13 years—when they talk about Satan is that he comes in a few specific forms: cloven feet, forked tongue, horns--and all of those guilty pleasures that you like—sex, alcohol, drugs. They never warn you that he could be the form of that wholesome actor that is reinventing himself as a dad doing a milk commercial. Yeah—milk does a body good. I bet. They leave out the part where that monster cock would be ripping you in half.  
Sure, you know about the 4 horsemen and the 7 trumpets sounding. You weren’t prepared for this. You weren’t sure precisely what you were expecting, but you thought the Church of Satan was full of shit when you had first walked in. Give someone something forbidden? Of course everyone would enjoy that. A man always fantasizes that he wants a threesome. It doesn’t mean he goes out and has one. But, not you. You had let your curiosity get the best of you. When Anton’s daughter, Zeena, had asked you if you were a virgin, you should have known. When she asked you if you’d ever touched yourself—again, you should have known. Now, you were sat on the dais in the middle of the church, pregnant with what could be the spawn of Satan. 

“Chris. Put some clothes on.”

“No. The end times are upon us.”

“OK—but—really—come on.”

You snatched his clothes off of the ground with great difficulty. Your belly grew by the minute. 

“I’m about to give birth to the child of Satan and you’re here, actin’ a fool. Get your shit together.” 

The ground trembled under your feet. 

“We gotta get outta here.”

Chris turned to face you. His pupils had changed his eyes from blue to black. His voice had dropped three octaves, taking on a deeper timbre. 

“Honey, I am Satan and we shall rule Hell together.”

“Wha—that’s not what I agreed to.”

“You’re having my child.”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his chest. You looked down and noticed some key changes which made your eyes bulge out of your head.

“Wha—I can’t—that’s not—no. No! Just no.”

His feet had changed to hooves. His dick had grown in length and width by several inches. His tongue had split and he flicked it down your neck. 

“Didn’t anybody tell you? I love chocolate and you’re the perfect flavor.”

You struggled against his grasp as he threw you on the floor. You pushed against his muscular shoulder. Had he gotten taller too?! You writhed on the floor and scrabbled out from under him. Your heavy belly slowed your retreat. His hands grasped and gripped all over you. He squeezed your thick round ass and forced your legs open. He grasped at your soft thighs and you squeezed them shut. 

“I love when you put up a fight. Makes it that much better when you orgasm.”

“No. No—this isn’t what I signed up for,” you screamed in his face.

“Yes it is.”

His forked tongue flicked up your glittering neck. 

“Look at your chocolate nipples. Hard for me.”

His tongue came and flicked the tip of your sore nipples.

“Stop. You’re hurting me,” you whispered.

“You like pain with your pleasure.”

“But you’re Captain America. You can’t be like this.”

“That’s acting. I kept the real me hidden behind closed doors. You know what my favorite thing is? To hear you squeal in pain.”

His large hands forces your thighs open, leaving little crescent marks on the inside of your thighs as he shifted closer to you. His split tongue twisted the tip of your nipple, eliciting a moan of pain from you. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” he hissed into your hair.

He placed one large hand next to your head and another grasped his massive cock. 

“No. No. I can’t take it. It’s too much. Please you’re going to hurt me.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You braced your hands against his shoulders, squirming under him. Tears trickled out of the side of your dark eyes.  
“Stop moving or I’ll really punish you.”

“No. No. Please. No.”

You begged him to stop. He smirked up at you as he nipped at your nipple. You squealed in pain. He nipped at the other nipple and you whimpered under him. 

“You’re not behaving.”

He slid a large forearm under your lower back and flipped you onto your hands and knees. You were presenting perfectly for anyone who walked by. He interlocked his fingers with yours and pressed his well-muscled torso against your back. The large bulbous head of his massive cock slid between your fold, moistening your entrance. He teased the large tip into your entrance. 

“I can’t. I can’t! No.”

You begged and pleaded with him. But, come on. This was Satan. He wasn’t the merciful type. He unlocked his hands from yours and squeezed your full hips. He looked at where the two of you were joined together. 

“Oh yes. That’s what I like to see.”

He plunged deep into you. The breath was knocked out of your lungs. Your shoulders hunched up against the intrusion. He was so gigantic that you felt like a pig on a spit. You couldn’t move with this large thing inside of you. Sweat dripped down your back. You curled your fingers into fists. He pulled out from you, leaving you able to take a deep breath, before plunging deep into you. He set a vicious pace, leaving you incoherent. At first, you had resisted in pain. The intrusion left you uncomfortable and unable to find the friction you needed. After a few minutes, Chris reached between your puffy folds to play with your sensitive nub and the pain bled into pleasure. You rocked your hips into him. His sweaty thighs pressed against the back of your coated thighs. His tongue teased your earlobe. His thumb and index finger pinched and rolled the tip of your nipple. You had turned into a wanton sex goddess. Who knew you’d be such a slut for Satan? His pacing became erratic and his middle finger flicked faster and faster against your nub. He pulled out and his hot cum spilled down your lower back and between your cheeks. You were seconds away from your orgasm and you were angry. You took matters into your own hands. You reached between your folds, seeking your sweet spot, when a firm grip pinned your right hand to the ground. 

“No. No! I was about to—”

Chris, or Satan—you’d forgotten to ask what you should call him—flipped you back onto your back and forced your legs open. His hot sticky cum gluing you to the hardwood floor of the church. You writhed against him. You wanted to orgasm. You were so close to the edge. The asshole. A forked tongue wiggled against your clit and your hips tilted towards it. 

“Listen, chocolate goddess. If you expect to stay by my side, you’d better behave. I’d hate to have to punish you.”

“That massive dick wasn’t torture enough?”

He smirked up at you from between your legs. His tongue worked its way from the entrance of your pussy up to the hood, leaving you limp on the ground. 

“Good girl. Let me have my way with you.”

The forked tongue wiggled around your sensitive nub and the devilish sensation prickled up the back of your scalp. You rocked your hips into his face and ground against him. That evil tongue brought you back to the verge of an orgasm and he looked up at you. You were about to lose your cool.

“What? What?! Seriously?! What?!”

You snapped. He easily grabbed both wrists and pinned them over your head. His hairy thigh brushed against your exposed pussy. He nipped at your nipple as he thrust into you without preamble. 

“Fuck.”

“I’m tryna.”

He took a slow and torturous approach. His massive cock stroked and teased your clit with each pump. Your brain melted out of your ear. The warmth of an orgasm grew in your belly and you tried not to show it. You knew he wouldn’t let you orgasm. Your body tightened against your will. The burning sign of a pentagram appeared at the center of the upside-down cross on the dais. Chris pumped faster and erratically into you. The coil twisted and turned tighter and tighter. You dropped off into a pool of warmth and calm. Goodness washed through you as you lie limp against the ground. Chris flipped you over onto your hands and knees and pumped furiously into you. He held you up as he spurted cum on your ass.  
A burning sensation and cramps permeated your lower back. It kicked the breath out of your lungs.

“Chris. Uh. I believe it’s time.”

You flopped onto your back and struggled to get comfortable. Pain ripped through your body. Chris knelt between your legs and looked on with glee. 

“This ain’t funny. I swear if I survive this, I’m going to kill you.”

Within seconds, a cherubic little boy with blond hair, blue eyes and white skin popped out of you. Your body immediately returned to its luscious curvy form. You looked at the baby skeptically. 

“At least, he could’ve been half black.”

“Honey. He’s the spawn of Satan. He’s gonna look like me.”

“So, what about me?! What do I get?!”

“You get to sit at my left hand in Hell.”

“What’s that mean?! I want some power. I just gave birth to your son.”

Chris looked at his son, wrapped in a red wooly cloak with adoration in his eyes.

“I’ll give you whatever you want. Anything. Just name it.”

“Fine. I get to be number 2 in charge, after you. And that dick of yours is too big. I can’t handle all of that. I get to decide torture techniques and different forms that the demons get to possess. Also, this whole Book of Revelations and foretelling of the end times--that’s in the trash. I like horses. So, none of this ‘horsemen of the apocalypse’ bullshit. God I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat. Then we can finish discussing my terms.”

“Fine. But I want more spawn.”

“I thought you had loads already?”

“Just this one. I want another one.”

“No. Your dick’s too big.”

“What? I can make it fit.”

“No. We’re not arguing about this.”

“I can make it fit! Watch me.”

You eyed him up and down skeptically.

“I’ll consider it. But I’m hungry. We can discuss more children later. What’re we gonna eat? Roasted flesh of the innocent?”

“Babe. I’m Satan. I eat normal food. Roasted flesh of the innocent is just to scare people. How about some barbecue?”  
“Yes. Ooooooooh. Yes. Yum.” 

You and Chris walked out of the church with the new heir to the throne carefully bundled up in Chris’s—I mean Satan’s arms. 

“Listen, the next child better look like me. I mean she better be exactly like me because I ain’t given birth to 5 white children. Ya feel?”

“Yes baby. I get it. Anything you want.”

You put a hand up to stop him. 

“Don’t dismiss me. Just because you’re Satan--that doesn’t mean you can ignore me. My children need to look like me too. OK?”

“Yes baby.”

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m gonna enjoy makin’ babies with you.”

“God help me!”


End file.
